


Beyond the Threshold

by neolith, Ramblingandpie



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Everyone who died in the suicide mission in my playthrough is dead here, F/F, F/M, Femshep/Garrus mention, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Gore, PTSD, Post-Canon, post-Synthesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 19:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14879456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neolith/pseuds/neolith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramblingandpie/pseuds/Ramblingandpie
Summary: Six years after the Reapers disappeared, Samantha Traynor has isolated herself in the English countryside. When she begins to receive encoded messages, she pushes herself to take a chance to step beyond the threshold.





	1. Chapter 1

__

 

_How is your house coming?_ Samantha Traynor thought.

“Fantastic!” Tali replied. Traynor heard the communication come through as audio. The com device no longer created vibrations against her skull, but rather interfaced directly with her vesibularcochlear nerve. “We found some more resources on old Quarian roofing techniques that we’re going to try out. I should be ready to move in a few weeks.”

It no longer bothered her that she didn’t know whether Tali was speaking out loud or simply thinking in her direction.

“You should come.” She paused. “I should have a welcoming party.”

Though they were systems apart, it _felt_ like they were both staring into space together for a few moments. In a way, they were.

_Just tell me when and where to be, and I’ll do my best,_ Traynor said.

“I’ll need to order food from off-world so don’t hold your breath,” Tali replied. “But we’ll make it happen.”

_It’s been six years. I can wait a little longer while you order supplies._ Tali’s home had been delayed so that she could focus on other various projects. She had been living out of a converted shuttle. They had joked several times about how it would help ease her transition to living on solid ground.

There was a shrill whistle. “What was that?” Tali asked.

_Just my kettle. Time for a cup of tea. I’ll be out of range for a few minutes._

Sam stood, stretched, and walked to the kitchen. She kept the transmitter in the study, and both it and she had a fairly limited range. She was working with EDI to tinker with it and eventually it would reach the whole house and garden.

She poured the boiling water over the prepared mug and dunked the teabag a few times. She watched the clock like a hawk and, at the exact three-minute mark, took the bag out and tossed it in the compost bin.

She never had been very patient about her tea. Forcing herself to wait was habit. As she watched the second hand on her clock, she didn’t think of anything else. Or anyone else.

She picked the mug up in her left hand, and then quickly thought better of it and set it down on the counter to pour the milk in. She took a few biscuits from the tin, set them on a plate, and carried everything back to the study.

_I’m back_ , she said.

“Speaking of houses,” Tali said, “how is yours coming along?”

Samantha looked around. _I’m quite settled in._ She had moved almost two years ago after deciding to officially retire. The study was by far her favorite room. She spent quite a bit of time these days in the overstuffed armchair, reading reports on all of the different linguistics and communications studies that were going on now that people were really starting to get used to the Synthesis. _I’ll show you._

This was something that they were still getting used to, even after several years. Samantha took a few deep breaths and squeezed her eyes shut.

_Ready?_

“Ready!”

Samantha opened her eyes and turned in a slow circle. As she took in the room, from the large transmitter that didn’t quite go with the countryside décor to the view of the rose garden from the window, she knew that Tali’s own com was interfacing with her Quarian nervous system to replicate the image. It was a tiring process, so she only did it for brief bursts. It was getting easier as time went on.

“It’s beautiful! Very cozy. You don’t happen to have a guest room, do you?”

Samantha chuckled. She may have officially retired, but Tali was an Admiral now and didn’t really have time to make social calls this far away. But she replied anyway, _I do. You really should take a break sometime, you know._

“Me? Take a break?” She heard Tali laughing. “I don’t think I remember how.”

_Take care of yourself is all, Tali. We need you._

“Now you sound like-“

They were interrupted by a crash.

“Are you ok?”

_I’m fine, I’m fine. I just dropped my plate._ Samantha flexed the fingers in her left hand. _Silly tremor is all. I’ll be fine._ She paused for a moment. _At least it wasn’t my tea._

There was a pause. “This has happened a few times now. Are you seeing a doctor?”

It had been more than a few times, but Samantha was much better about lying than she had been during her days on the Normandy. _I promise I will._

\---

The Veteran’s Hospital was in London. Samantha was at home in the countryside. The thought of going to London made her nauseated. While it was remarkably rebuilt, she would inevitably need to pass through sections that still made her stomach curl.

Fortunately for her, many of those involved with the final battle in London had chosen to settle at least near the area to help rebuild. Dr. Chakwas could be persuaded to make a house call.

After coming in through the gate in the white picket fence and complimenting the house, particularly the rosebushes out front, Dr. Chakwas stuck several nodes on Samantha’s left hand.

“What are those?”

“Just some electrosensitive material. They’ll get readings from your nerves and I’ll be able to see if we have a misfire.” The doctor took Samantha’s hand in her own and peered at it from every angle, turning it over, looking between the fingers. She frowned. “I really should see if I can get a reading while you’re having a tremor. Unfortunately, even with all of our changes, the human body is not always cooperative.”

Samantha noted that Dr. Chakwas hadn’t brought any equipment to actually read the results. The sensors were probably something that she was able to interface with directly.

“You wore your omnitool on your left arm, correct?”

“Correct.”

Dr. Chakwas looked again. “Very few visible Scars. I’m surprised.”

Scars were what they all called the visible signs of synthesized cybernetic hardware. Synthesis-created attachment retrofit symptoms. Someone, somewhere, had clearly retrofit the acronym, but it fit and it stuck.

No-one was sure what happened on the Citadel. When the Reapers suddenly left, and the odd light washed over the entire galaxy, nearly all technology that people were using had melded with their bodies and nervous systems. It was how Samantha was able to communicate essentially through telepathy with anyone nearby who had a com device, or over great distances using a transmitter that beamed her thoughts to the satellite, which beamed them to the Relay and then on to their destination. The scarring from her com was almost entirely covered by her hair, and her omnitool had left only a thin, jagged orange line that ran from her wrist to elbow on her forearm.

Not everyone was as lucky as she had been. She only had her com device and her omnitool, which she could now activate and use with a thought.

“I hardly ever use the interface these days,” she said. “If I’m reading, I like to hold a datapad. Or a book. It’s essentially a glorified calculator now.”

Dr. Chakwas nodded. “Good. That’s good. I hope you’re doing at least some reading for fun?”

Samantha smiled. “New linguistics studies are fun.”

Dr. Chakwas laughed and shook her head. “None of us can ever really retire, can we? Look at me. Still patching you all up.” She paused. “Speaking of. What are you usually doing when you experience the tremors?”

Samantha thought about it. Though she was usually very keen on noticing patterns, she had mostly tried to ignore them in this case. “Honestly, they’re usually when I’m distracted. Talking with someone, reading, having tea. If I’m focusing on my hands, never.”

“Well, then, it’s time for a cup. Come on. I’ll make it since you’re covered in sensors. I want to see the kitchen, anyway.”

Samantha led the way, and directed Dr. Chakwas to the mugs, teabags, and electric kettle.

“And where do you keep the biscuits? The good ones. With chocolate. Don’t skimp on me, now.”

Samantha smiled. “I only get the good ones. You know that.” She pointed towards the large tin on the counter. “And I stocked up just for you.”

Dr. Chakwas opened the tin and put a generous supply of cookies on a plate. She began on them while waiting for the water to boil. “You don’t happen to have any whisky for the tea, do you?”

“I got some special. It’s already in the study.”

“Ah, you know me so well. Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll finish up in here and bring everything in.”

“I’m not going to have any biscuits left for tomorrow if I do that,” Samantha said, following the doctor’s instructions and going to the study. She plopped down on the armchair.

While waiting, she checked her inbox. She had several e-mails, which were still the best way to send a message if you weren’t sure the recipient would be in range of a transmitter or if you didn’t want to interrupt them by essentially ringing them up.

She had several messages from Liara containing links to studies she thought Samantha would find interesting. A headline about the telepathic abilities of human children caught her eye. She kept them all to read later.

“Are you working? Stop it. You’re retired.”

“It’s just some light reading, I promise.”

“Of course it is,” Dr. Chakwas said, setting the tea tray down on the table. The bottle of whisky was already out. She unsealed and opened it, and then poured a generous dollop into her own tea. Samantha took the milk from the tray for her own.

“I’d ask if you were having a problem with alcohol, but the bottle’s dusty and hasn’t been opened. You know, you really ought to get a dog to keep you company out here.” Samantha clammed up at that.

The continued to make small talk for a while. Dr. Chakwas had finally settled in one place and was working at the Veteran’s Hospital in London. Medicine was now a rapidly-changing field, as people’s Scars continued to adapt and integrate with their bodies. It was actually quite helpful for diagnostic purposes to be able to interface almost directly with a patient, and the Scars themselves would also adapt to either help heal injuries or create workarounds.

And, of course, there was the new field of Synthetic medicine. As different Synthetic creatures became more and more symbiotic with the bacteria that had been on and in their systems, they were developing an entirely new field to study the phenomenon. The Quarians, who now wore their suits as exoskeletons, were leading the way there, accompanied by a team of Salarian geneticists.

Dr. Chakwas continued, “The geneticists are even predicting that within our lifetime, interbreeding at least between species will be possible. Eventually, they think that synthetic and organic reproduction will develop, as well.”

“What does EDI think of that?”

“I keep telling her, I don’t know any doctor who’s prepared to deliver a newborn spaceship.”

Dr. Chakwas laughed at the punchline. Samantha also laughed, but it was more for show.

“Pass me a biscuit, will you? I’m old and tired,” Dr. Chakwas said, suddenly changing the subject.

As Samantha passed the biscuit, Dr. Chakwas took her left hand as if noticing it for the first time. “That is such a pretty ring.”

“Thank you,” Samantha said quietly.

“That’s quite the diamond.”

Samantha nodded.

“Do you mind if I ask…?” Dr. Chakwas trailed off as she took the biscuit.

“It’s all right. Yes. It’s from her.” The tone had shifted suddenly from its lighthearted small talk.

“Will you tell me?”

Samantha looked away. “You know that after the Citadel reappeared, I went back to try to help. The crews actually hadn’t opened her apartment up. They couldn’t get it unlocked. But my handprint was coded as a key, so we were able to get in.”

She paused.

“I couldn’t do it. Liara brought in some of her crew to secure the apartment and search for anything that they needed for the archives. They found the ring in her nightstand. There was a note.”

Samantha’s shoulder slumped and she rested her head in her hands. Dr. Chakwas began rubbing her upper back in small circles.

“I’m not surprised. We all knew how much you two meant to each other. I hadn’t seen her smile in two years until she met you.”

Before she knew what was happening, Samantha was leaning into Dr. Chakwas with tears running down her cheeks.

“It’s just not fair,” was all that Samantha could say.

“War never is.”

They were silent like that for what seemed like several minutes, with Samantha crying onto Dr. Chakwas’s shirt.

“Damn. It’s happening again.”

Samantha felt her hand trembling. Though the rest of her was shaking, this was distinct.

“It’s not stopping this time. Why isn’t it stopping?”

Dr. Chakwas wrapped her arms around Samantha and stroked her hair.

“I’m watching your neurons now. It’s not a neurological defect, Samantha. I know you saw a grief counselor in London. Have you been back in therapy at all?”

“No. No, I’ve been doing,” she paused to take a deep breath, “so well, I’ve been keeping busy….”

“How long has it been since you left this cottage?”

Samantha didn’t answer.

“I knew you wouldn’t come to London, but when I saw the boxes from your deliveries, I knew you weren’t going out for groceries, either. There’s no judgement. But you have to let someone take care of you, Samantha. No-one expects you to be strong all the time.”

Samantha’s breathing evened slightly. “What do I do?”

“Mental health is somewhat out of my area of expertise. But I already made arrangements for a counselor to start coming by once a week. Dr. Josari D’Laris is an asari who specializes in grief and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I think you’ll like her. Also, as a precaution, I brought you a month’s supply of anxiety medication and some sedatives for when that’s not enough. I thought this might be the culprit so I came prepared.”

Samantha let out a big sigh. So. That would be it. Reliving everything with yet another new counselor, more medications, more attempts to bring everything back to normal when it was impossible for anything to be normal again. Why couldn’t she just distract herself with work forever?

Or why couldn’t Shepard have somehow made it out?

“Keep breathing. There you go.”

“They never even found her body,” Samantha said, and the tears began anew.

“It’s ok to cry. Cathartic, even. You’re not alone. You’re not alone.”

“And it just feels so selfish. She saved the whole world. The whole Galaxy. And here I am, crying because they didn’t have a body for the funeral.”

Dr. Chakwas continued to stroke Samantha’s hair.

“It’s been six years and I can’t shake the feeling that one day she’s going to walk in that door with a puppy in a basket so we can settle down like we planned.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Samantha stopped hyperventilating, but the tears still flowed freely.

“Would you like one of the sedatives now?”

It took Samantha a few moments to answer.

“Will I have dreams?”

“No.”

“Will you stay with me until I wake up?”

“Of course.”

\---

Dr. Chakwas ended up staying for two days, until the day that Dr. D’Laris arrived. She left that morning to allow Samantha some time for herself.

The initial appointment with Dr. D’Laris went on for a few hours. Samantha didn’t go into detail, but went over her history since the Synthesis. Everything was verbal. Dr. D’Laris explained that most of her patients preferred it that way.

She had stayed in London after the Synthesis both to help try to rebuild and also for the grief counseling at the quickly-established veteran’s hospital. When the Citadel reappeared about a year later, she made arrangements to return to help set up communications transmitters so that they could re-establish the Citadel as the seat of government.

It was eerie, at first, with how empty it was. But even more eerie was the Citadel itself. There were no signs of any struggle anywhere to be found, or any of the bodies that had been transported from London. The Keepers were different, too. They seemed to be observing more.

When they re-opened the archives, it was discovered that Shepard had left Samantha everything in her will. And while she technically couldn’t list her as a beneficiary on any of her Alliance benefits, her Spectre benefits worked differently. Samantha began to receive the widow’s pension. She still kept at her work even though she didn’t need any income. The work kept her mind busy.

When she could no longer take the feeling that she was being watched, and the emptiness on the Citadel was more than she could bear, she left. She traveled with EDI and Joker for about a year doing odd gigs for the Alliance. Most pilots had bonded with their ships in some way during the Synthesis, but Joker hadn’t. As close as he was to the Normandy, EDI was closer.

After that, she spent some time with Liara and Javik on recovered Prothean technology. The VI that Liara had found years earlier with Shepard on Ilos had come back to life with the Synthesis, powered by photosynthesis from all of the vines in its hardware, and they were working on integrating its communications with modern technology with the hope of documenting the parts of Prothean culture that had been lost before Javik’s birth.

Eventually, she decided to settle down and retire. At first she went to London, but didn’t find it a comfortable place to rest. She wanted some solitude.

The cottage was a perfect getaway at first. She kept a small flat in London, and the cottage was a place to come out and tinker on projects like her transmitter.

Over the course of a little more than a year, she found herself going back to London less and less frequently. Eventually, she gave up the flat entirely and moved out to the cottage full-time. She kept busy with projects and consulting for the two years she’d been out there, and still tinkered with her transmitter.

To start, the doctor wanted her to continue tinkering with the transmitter as she felt up to it, and to also do daily meditation. She warned that the first several weeks, the meditation would be hard. That was no joke. The first few times that Samantha tried to do it on her own ended in crying fits. But she was making it slightly longer each time.

The doctor had also advised her to focus on something, whether it was the smell of incense or a part of her body, to help center herself.

On the fifth day of this, Samantha was sitting in her armchair, focusing intently on the tip of her nose, thinking that she might finally be getting the hang of things, when it happened again.

Not just a tremor but a full-on tic. She could feel her hand tapping the armchair. She tried judiciously to ignore it and focus on the tip of her nose.

Tap tap tap tap.

Nose.

Tap tap.

Nose. She was just feeling settled again, when it started back up.

Tap tap tap tap.

Nose.

Tap tap.

Wait. That was not a tic.

“Hello?” she asked to the empty room. “Who’s there?”

There was no response. She felt pins and needles in her hand, and the tapping stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

It had been years since she’d needed to use Morse code for anything, but it was as much a part of her as breathing.

Four dits for H. Two dits for I.

“Hi.” The simplest message.

She fidgeted in her chair, trying to get comfortable, focusing on the tip of her nose. Her heart raced, but no more messages came.

She tried tapping back. Dit-dit-dit-dit. Dit. Dit-Dah-Dit-Dit. Dit-Dah-Dit-Dit. Dah-Dah-Dah. “Hello.” Still no response.

She briefly wondered if she had been imagining it, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was a master at recognizing messages.

Meditation was abandoned for the afternoon. Now she had a mystery to keep her mind occupied.

Step one was to consolidate as much information as she could about any potentially related variables. Step two would be to look for patterns and see what could be eliminated. The thought that she might have to wait for more communication to get more data points was obnoxious and she tried to put it out of her mind.

She grabbed an old paper notebook, sat cross-legged in the chair, and jotted down everything she could think of.

The date the tremors started. Every date she could think of that she’d had them, and what she was doing. Today’s date, that they developed into tapping. She tried to think back to if there had been any other tapping incidents, but couldn’t recall any that seemed to follow a pattern.

She began to look up information that might be relevant, which was mostly the positions of the relays and any astronomical phenomena on the days she’d had tremors. She looked up the news headlines for those days, but didn’t see anything that seemed appropriate.

Her mind raced as she tried to re-live those days and write down as much information as she could.

In the end, she determined that the tremors occurred most frequently in her study, but sometimes in her bedroom. They happened with greater frequency when she was communicating with someone, eating, and when she was trying to fall asleep.

Come to think of it, they only occurred in the study or the bedroom. Which was right above the study.

She looked around the room and her eyes landed on the transmitter. She looked through her book again.

The first incident was a few days after she activated it. They had been increasing with frequency as she made upgrades. More upgrades would mean more data points.

She ran the calculations as to what size dish her power system could accommodate, and how many extenders she would need to chain together to have reception in the whole house. The calculations were so much easier now that her omnitool was connected directly to her brain.

Then, she grabbed her tablet. This was going to require some shopping.

\---

“It looks like you’ve been busy,” Dr. D’Laris said, looking at the notebook on the table, spread open to hand-drawn schematics, and the cables strewn about the study.

“Be careful not to trip!” Samantha warned cheerily.

“Did anything in particular prompt this, Samantha?”

Samantha walked into the study with the tea tray. “Well,” she said, setting the tray down and stuffing a biscuit into her mouth to buy a few seconds. “I think the meditation jiggled loose a few ideas.”

Dr. D’Laris looked at her skeptically but didn’t say anything. “Do you think it’s been helping? The meditation?”

“M-hm!” Samantha said as she poured two cups of tea. “Loads, actually.” She passed one cup towards the doctor.

The doctor took another look around the room. “When did you start this new project?”

“Well, it’s not really a new project. It’s more like a continuation. I realized that if I chained the extenders, which isn’t hard at all, I could probably get coverage over the whole house. Even the garden. Originally I wanted to do it entirely with the transmitter itself, but this is going to be loads easier even if it wouldn’t meet military-grade security. And it would be lovely to sit outside for chats.”

“How do you feel when you’re working on this project?”

“Great, actually. It’s nice to have my mind busy again and have something to focus on.” She took a sip of her tea. She was having difficulty focusing right now. There had been no messages since the first set of taps. She was hoping that when the satellite dish was delivered and set up that it would help, but that would still be another few days. Com extenders were easy to get a hold of. Satellite receivers? Not so much.

“Are you still taking breaks for meditation and rest?”

“Yes. And because I know I’m busier, I’ve increased to twice a day.” There was a silence. “As I said, it’s helping me think.”

“Are you actually meditating, or are you actively thinking of schematics?”

“Trying not to. Usually I focus on the tip of my nose. Sometimes my eyelashes. Or I make a cup of cocoa and focus on the smell while it cools down, even just for a few minutes.” She took another sip of her tea.

“I notice you’re wringing your hands. How is the anxiety? Are you still having panic attacks?”

Samantha paused and set her cup down. Even with keeping busy, she was still having them. “On occasion.” They had stopped for years. Why did they have to start back up again?

“How many, would you say, since I last saw you?”

Samantha stopped for a moment and counted. “Three?”

“That’s not terrible. Is there anything in specific that seems to bring them on?”

She thought. She had been trying to find a pattern, but wasn’t able to. “The first was a dog barking. It startled me. Then, I think it was the smell of smoke. I think someone down the lane was barbequing.” She shuddered just thinking of it. “And I never did figure out the third one.”

“How long do they last?”

“Not too long. Twenty minutes? And I find something to keep myself busy, which helps.”

“How is your sleeping?”

Samantha didn’t answer.

“Samantha? I know we didn’t talk much about this last time.”

Even though the panic attacks had stopped for several years, the nightmares never managed to stop for long. She would get at most three nights of peace at the best of times.

“Um. Not great?”

“How so? If you’re comfortable sharing. I can tell this is a sensitive topic.”

“No, it’s ok. I do stay up working pretty late most nights, which is probably not great. But I have always loved sleeping in.”

She noticed that she was rubbing the palm of her right hand with her left thumb, and quickly stopped to pick up her teacup again.

Dr. D’Laris had also clearly noticed, and looked, but said nothing.

“Have you always been a night owl?”

“Mostly. In university, I would get off a bartending shift and then stay up reading journals on all sorts of subjects. My roommate used to joke that I was trying to read everything before I lost student access.”

“And what about your time in the Alliance?”

“Well, there, you have no choice. You sleep when you can. On the Normandy, there were times where we were all so exhausted that they found me once under the conference table just off the CIC.”

“Where did you usually sleep?”

Again, she paused. “Well, I guess they can’t kick me out for fraternizing _now_ , can they? I mean, I usually slept in the barracks, which was fine. We would stay together in her apartment when we were on the Citadel. It was only the last few nights…” she paused, shook her head, and continued. “It was only the last few nights that I spent in the commander’s chambers.” She stopped and took a few deep breaths. “It seemed like she needed me there. She was having nightmares.” Dr. D’Laris said nothing, and after a few moments, Samantha continued to break the silence.

“Damn it all, I should have started staying there sooner. If I’d known how bad her nightmares were, I would have just thrown regs to the winds. What were they going to do? We all needed her. We all needed her to be at her best, so she could-“

Samantha paused. So she could what, exactly? They still didn’t know what happened that day on the Citadel. Though the station usually had excellent surveillance, it all stopped recording before Shepard and Anderson had ascended. They never even determined where, exactly, they ended up.

“You can’t change the past, Samantha,” Dr. D’Laris said, after a few moments of silence.

“I know.”

“You mentioned her nightmares. Were you also having bad dreams?”

“Not then.”

“Now?”

She paused again. “I have dreams that the war never ended. That the Reapers come back. Or that this whole Synthesis is a dream, and I wake up in London and it’s still burning.”

She was silent for a few moments. “The worst dreams are the ones I don’t remember. I just wake up knowing that something awful has happened.”

They both sat in silence for a few moments.

“Thank you for sharing that, Samantha. I know that was very hard and very personal.”

Samantha looked away.

“What I’d like to work on with you over the next few weeks is some more guided meditation. Some people call it hypnosis, but I understand that term has a lot of misconceptions with humans. Essentially, it’s guiding your consciousness to a relaxed state where those memories can’t interfere. Eventually, with practice, you’ll be able to do it on your own. I know a lot of my patients find that doing it right before bed or early in the morning helps to manage their nightmares. Does that sound like something that could help you?”

“I guess I’m willing to give it a try.”

“I know that sharing about your dreams was very difficult. So let’s start this session and hopefully we can get you at least feeling more relaxed today before I have to leave.”

They spent the rest of the session with Samantha flexing and relaxing different body parts and focusing on them. She wasn’t expecting it to work, but it did feel nice. By the end of it, she was feeling somewhat more relaxed. Physically, at least.

Dr. D’Laris left her with a recording so that she could do the guided meditation before bed. And it had given Samantha some other ideas.

\---

A few days later, the dish arrived. She spent an entire day working nonstop to get it set up.

_EDI, are you free?_

“Yes, Samantha.”

_Great! I’ve done some improvements to the transmitter and wanted to test them out._

“I can feel that the connection is much stronger,” EDI said. “What kind of improvements did you install?”

_A bunch. Can you take a visual?_

“Of course.”

She always asked. Even after Synthesis, beings that had begun life as organic had trouble managing multiple visual inputs. EDI never had trouble with things like that, but it still felt like the polite thing to do.

Samantha began transmitting what she was seeing. The satellite dish was mounted in the backyard. The diameter was about as wide as Samantha was tall. Fortunately, materials were becoming much lighter now that they had access to Geth technology. Still, it had taken quite a bit of maneuvering to hold it in place while she finalized the attachment to its pedestal.

_What do you think?_

“You’re getting reception outside. That’s not just from the dish.”

_I also chained several extenders. I get reception through the whole house now._

“This is the longest that you’ve maintained a visual connection by several seconds. How do you feel?”

_Maybe it’s just the adrenaline, but I feel great._

There was a pause.

“Your flowers look fantastic. Very symmetrical.” Another pause. “You should get a hammock.”

\---

Samantha spent much of the next few days trying to rest.

There were obviously two parts to the messages. She had to be open to receive them, of course, but that didn’t do anyone any good if it wasn’t at a time when the messages were being sent. Though she’d had several tremors in the days leading up to the dish’s arrival, none had turned into code.

Now that things were set up, her job was to be receptive as much as possible.

It was harder than she thought it would be. It was difficult to rest. When she didn’t have something to read or something to work on, she found her mind returning to those dark places from years ago. More than once she had to shake herself out of meditation and quickly find a distraction.

She drank an obscene amount of tea.

As she lay in bed, alternating between flexing her hands until they felt numb and then relaxing them, focusing on a spot on the ceiling, she wondered what would happen if no other messages came. She wondered if perhaps she had been imagining things. What if something had happened to whoever had sent the messages?

She supposed that the tremors happened when it was attempting to send a message but, for whatever reason, the message wasn’t getting through. The fact that they continued to happen periodically was encouraging.

She began to spend her days fluctuating between meditation and pacing.

It was after one in the morning when, during a bout of pacing, she felt her hand start to have another tremor. She quickly sat down and calmed herself as much as she could. Her heart was racing, but she bit the tip of her tongue and focused her mind on the sensation of pain. Whoever was sending the messages was clearly not connected enough to receive the pain signals.

H-I

“Hello,” she said, immediately regretting her choice of focus. “Can you hear me?”

There was a pause.

Y-E-S

“Who or what are you?”

Another pause. She felt intuitively that it took a great effort for the person or being to send these messages.

S-H-E-P-A--

The message cut off. Samantha’s heart beat faster.

Shepard. It had to be.

“Shepard? Jane! You’re alive?”

She was met with silence. Her hand was tingling with pins and needles. The transmission was finished.

She wracked her brain. Her current setup didn’t have the capabilities to track the location of incoming transmissions. Hardly any did, these days.

There had been no background with the message. Even with a telepathic conversation, there was usually some background chatter or noise. If there had been, she could have analyzed it to see if there were any clues to the location.

She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands.

Six years. Six years that Shepard had somehow been alive, and they had given up the search.

How had she stayed alive this long? Had she escaped the Citadel? From the reports, they kept discovering more portals. Perhaps Shepard had found one and managed to escape?

Samantha had been prepared to have more questions than answers after the next communication. Nothing had prepared her for these particular questions.

Why did the damn transmission have to get cut off?

She felt responsible. If only she’d been able to remain calm when finding out, maybe she would have been able to get more information. But how could she be calm?

She reached out as best she knew how. She focused on the communication and made fists so tight that they left nail-marks on her palms.

Her body was filled with energy and adrenaline with nowhere to channel it. She felt absolutely helpless.

She cried for a while. She screamed a few times, jumped up and down in place, and paced.

Eventually, she went outside and stared hard at the stars as though their millions-of-years-old light might give a clue. Somewhere. Somewhere out there, Shepard was alive.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The clatter of a tea tray being set down woke her up.

She lay in the shade of the satellite dish. It was early morning and the dew had soaked through her clothes. Ultimately, not the most unpleasant way she had ever woken up, but it certainly held rank.

She groggily raised her head.

“Ah, you’re up.” Dr. D’Laris. “And I see that you’ve been busy again.”

She looked over to see the doctor sitting on the back stoop with a tray next to her. Samantha’s largest mug was on it with steam rising from the top.

She sat up. The previous night came rushing back. She grew lightheaded and leaned her forehead against the satellite dish.

One thing was for certain. She knew in her gut that she could not tell the doctor about Shepard. It’s not that she didn’t trust the doctor. She came recommended by Dr. Chakwas. But at this point, who would believe her? Would Dr. D’Laris think she had gone absolutely mental? She absolutely could not do anything to jeopardize her independence or her proximity to her transmitter.

“Those sedatives are stronger than I thought,” she said, faintly, wondering if Dr. D’Laris would catch on to the lie.

The doctor walked over, bringing the mug with her. She helped Samantha up. Samantha happily took the mug when it was offered.

“I brewed it fairly strong. Go on. Take it inside. Go get washed and dressed.” Dr. D’Laris ushered Samantha into the house. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to wait.”

Samantha stumbled upstairs and to the bathroom. She turned up the shower as hot as it would go and stripped of her wet clothes. She drained her mug as the water warmed up. She was still waking up and it felt like her thoughts were moving through treacle. The shower would help.

She set her empty mug on the sink counter and stepped into the steamy warmth of the shower. She stood there for what seemed both like only a few seconds and an eternity, letting the spray warm her from her head to her toes. She didn’t bother with her soap or loofah. The heat was what she needed.

She stood in the shower for seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds, her omnitool reported when she emerged. Usually she was better at filtering out the stream of absolutely useless information that it gathered. Today was apparently not going to be that day.

She dried off and wrapped herself in her fluffy bathrobe. She brushed her teeth. And then she headed downstairs to brave what she was sure would be a barrage of questions.

She was shocked to, instead, find Dr. D’Laris in the kitchen with a frying pan and some eggs. At her entrance, the doctor popped some bread into the toaster and turned it on.

“I considered trying to make a Full English, but after what you said about the barbeque, I didn’t want to surprise you with any smells.”

“Do you always make breakfast for your patients?”

“Sometimes, what a person needs more than mental guidance is someone to make sure that they eat a healthy breakfast.”

Samantha sat at the kitchen table feeling awkward in her bathrobe. There were several minutes where the only sound was the scraping of the spatula in the pan and the ding of the toaster.

Dr. D’Laris set the plate down. “I hope you don’t mind that I scavenged in your kitchen.”

Samantha shook her head. “Not at all. Thank you.” She buttered the toast.

The doctor sat opposite her. Samantha took several bites of breakfast.

“Shall we start with whatever happened last night?”

Samantha stopped eating and looked down at her breakfast. Here it came.

“It’s obvious that something unusual happened for you to end up in that position.”

“Yes,” Samantha said quietly. How vague could she manage to be? She was overcome ever so briefly with the urge to share everything. She chewed her lower lip instead.

“At least, I hope that it was unusual. I hope that you haven’t been sleeping on the lawn on a regular basis.” Dr. D’Laris paused and sighed. “I’m only going to ask you to share what you’re comfortable with. When a crisis happens, it can take a while even for the person going through it to grasp it enough to put it into words. I’m not going to ask you to try to do that this morning.”

Samantha breathed a sigh of relief.

“What I am going to do is ask some questions to make sure that you are safe. Physically.”

“Ok.”

“Is this the first time you’ve slept out on the grass?”

Samantha nodded. “It happened once in University, but that was an extenuating circumstance.”

“I can imagine. That’s good, though. Let’s not make it a habit, hm?”

“Promise.”

“Good. Now, to say that you’ve been working on some projects is perhaps an understatement.” Dr. D’Laris gestured towards the cables that ran through the kitchen. Samantha hadn’t yet organized them, and they were haphazardly scattered throughout the house connecting the extenders.

“I felt like tinkering,” Samantha said. It was technically true.

“And that’s ok. It’s ok to want to keep busy. Trust me, I understand. What I’m concerned about is if you are getting enough rest.”

“I’ve been meditating twice a day.” She paused. “Well, except the day that I put up the dish.”

“And are you sleeping?”

Samantha didn’t answer. Dr. D’Laris furrowed her brow.

“That’s what I thought. Originally, I was hoping to do some new guided meditation with you today. But in light of circumstances, I think we need to focus on getting you back onto a regular sleeping schedule. That will help with everything else.”

Samantha grimaced.

“I know. I’ve worked with enough workaholics to know that face. Do you get nightmares when you take the sedatives?”

“No. I don’t think I dream at all.”

“What I want you to do is, for the next week, pick a time and take them every night. They work just fine when taken as needed, but what you need is to reset your body’s circadian rhythms. Can you do that?”

Samantha nodded.

“I’m only going to ask one more time if you want to talk about what happened last night. If you don’t want to, then I won’t bring it up again unless you do.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“And that’s okay. But I do have one last request.”

“What’s that?”

“Take the sedative only after you’ve gotten into bed.”

\---

The doctor had stayed for a while after to make sure that Samantha would be okay, and rescheduled her follow-up so that she would come by in three days. That gave Samantha plenty of time to work.

Even if her usual methods for tracking communication wouldn’t work, Samantha had always been good at puzzles.

She drew up the information for each of the locations that had a known portal from the Citadel.

She tried analyzing the information in different ways. First, she used a projector to display the location of each of the planets and their respective Mass Relays during each of the definite communication events. While it was difficult to determine a definite pattern from only two points of data, she used these as her base set and projected an overlay of each of the tremor events.

Ultimately, she was able to eliminate a few planets. Some would have been impossible to communicate from during times that she had received tremors. While the telepathy was very effective, it did depend on the Mass Relay systems for long-distance communication. Solar storms eliminated a few, and eclipses a few others. Still, she was left with a list of fourteen possible planets that Shepard could be on. Some had hardly been explored.

She was pulling up the news reports from those fourteen planets when she felt it begin again. She sat down on the grass under the satellite dish and let her fingers tap against its base.

H-I

“You’re alive!”

There was a pause, then, clear as day:

N-O

Samantha struggled to keep her breathing steady as her thoughts tried to race. No?

“You’re… dead?”

N-O

She took a few deep breaths. With code, it would be easier for Shepard to speak in very short replies. There was no getting a proper answer to what was going on with only yes-no questions. She had to move on. She had been prepared with several simple questions, the most important of which was: “Where are you?”

C-I-T-A-D-E-L

The communication ended. Though she felt fatigued, she immediately reached out elsewhere.

_EDI! EDI, please tell me you can hear me._

“Traynor, I detect your heartbeat is amplified. Are you hurt?”

_I’m ok. But I need you and Joker to come pick me up._

“What’s the matter?”

_Shepard is out there._ Even though Shepard had answered that she was somehow not alive, that had to be wrong. Unless she was communicating from beyond the grave. She had said she was on the Citadel.

“Where? Is she safe? Do we need the team?”

_I think she’s safe. She said she’s on the Citadel._

“We will be to you soon. There is an adequate landing zone?”

_A field just North of my location. Just outside my front door, really._ She visualized the field and sent the information to EDI.

_Hurry._

\---

Her time in the military had taught her to pack light. Everything she needed for the trip fit in a backpack. Once on the Normandy, she would have access to any technology that she might need. The communications capabilities of the ship were outstanding. She just hoped that Shepard would be able to find her.

She left a note for Dr. D’Laris, since she still wasn’t convinced that telling her was a good idea. The doctor might simply think she’d gone mad. This way, the doctor wouldn’t even know until Samantha was off-planet.

She took one last good shower, and then waited.

It was nearing dusk when Samantha heard the shuttle land. She went out the door and stopped at the gate.

It had been almost two years since she left the cottage. Despite all the courage and bravery that she had learned throughout the war, she faltered for a moment.

The cottage felt safe. She knew it was nonsense. She knew that the world out there was safer than it had ever been. It was nigh impossible for people to hurt each other without directly feeling the ramifications of their actions. Where communication had before been limited in its ability to share understanding, people were now able to really achieve consensus.

So why was she still terrified to step out of her front gate?

“Are you ok?” She heard Steve’s voice clearly through her com.

_Yes,_ she thought at him. _It’s just that it’s a big step._

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she stepped through the gate. Once there, she hurried into the shuttle and looked around. The pilot chair was empty.

_EDI’s been working with me on increasing my range. Make yourself comfortable. Anywhere but my old chair. That just feels weird._

Samantha sat in one of the passenger chairs in the newer rear half of the shuttle and buckled in. She glanced over at the console, which was streaked with red and green light.

Even after all this time, there were some changes from the Synthesis that she thought she might never get used to. Flying in a craft without a pilot was still strange. Autopilot on cars was one thing. Spacecraft and shuttles were entirely another.

“Glad to see you’ve made a full repair. Did you come down here all the way from orbit?”

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

She thought back to the article she’d read that some children were able to interface directly with any unattached vehicle. What she, Steve, and other adults found challenging would be, well, child’s play to them. The world was becoming more unrecognizable every day. Not that it was a bad thing. Any change from when the Reapers were attacking was welcome.

“Not so crazy. Useful, really. And you get to be in two places at once.”

“I had enough trouble keeping my mind occupied when I was stuck in one place.”

Samantha looked at her feet. “Well, now you can tinker with yourself in public without it being weird.”

She felt the entire shuttle vibrate with Steve’s laughter.

“Good one. I’m going to have to remember that.”

They continued to make small talk as they flew back to the Normandy, where Steve deftly docked the shuttle. When the door opened, there was his human half.

She hadn’t seen him since that final day. Even when she was on the Normandy before, he was still recovering in the hospital and the shuttle was being rebuilt.

She winced. His arms were streaked with green lines, and his fingertips were entirely green with patches of red grids. His eyes had a strange glow. She knew that he had Synthesized with his shuttle, even when they both went down, but didn’t realize the extent of his Scarring.

He ignored her flinch. “Welcome aboard!”

She walked forward and held her arms out for a hug. He gave her a tight squeeze.

“Welcome back, Samantha,” EDI’s voice rang out as actual audio from one of the speakers in the docking bay. While her humanoid body was nowhere to be seen, now more than ever EDI simply _was_ the Normandy.

“Halloooo!” Samantha called. “Who all is here, anyway?”

“Myself, Jeff, Steve, and Adams.”

“You run a very small crew these days,” Samantha said.

She heard Jeff’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Doesn’t take much to run it. Though it is a bit of a sausage fest sometimes.”

Steve and Samantha both shook their heads. “I could be anywhere,” Steve said. “I could literally fly away. Remind me why I’m still on this ship?”

“So you can pick up the strays like me. Come on, I want to see the changes.”

The Normandy was no longer formally an Alliance vessel. Since having her sentience acknowledged, EDI had elected to retire. Jeff and Adams had joined her right away, and Steve came back after he was rebuilt.

Samantha gathered from Adams’s tour that they did a lot of odd jobs, many of which ended up being for the Alliance or the Council. They ran artifacts and information for Liara, and frequently ran into Vega. He had stayed in the Alliance and made N7. Though there was a reduced need for military force now, they still had enough work to go around. Several of his deployments had been to help lead rebuilding teams or to disarm automated defense systems.

Samantha put her bag in the old crew quarters, which has been converted into guest quarters. The bunk beds were the same that she was used to. The others all had their own spaces. Joker and EDI had taken the master suite. Adams had a nice spot carved out in one of the side rooms off Engineering. Steve usually slept in his shuttle.

Though not one of them was a decent cook, they managed to have a nice dinner. Joker even left the helm to join them. Adams brought out the playing cards and doled everyone an equal amount of poker chips. They all agreed to play nice and not pry telepathically.

Steve decided it was time to open a bottle of wine or three. Even EDI had a glass. When Samantha commented, EDI explained that she had developed an organic repository. The fermentation had an effect on her cognition, but even at 99.9% she would be polite enough to not join the poker game.

Samantha wasn’t sure how much of that was a joke but decided that she was probably happier not asking questions. Also, she drank several glasses of wine and lost her chips very quickly.

“Okay. I may be out. But. Which one of you cowards is brave enough to face me in a real game of strategy and skill? EDI, please tell me that you still have a chess board on… um… on board?”

She stood up for dramatic effect and knocked her chair over in the process. The wine had been stronger than she was expecting.

Joker, in an unusual bout of responsibility, responded. “Okay, miss aggressive. You’re out of chips. We still have another night before we reach the Citadel for more games. For now, I think it’s time for you to hit the hay.”

“No no no. I can keep going. I just need something a little more my speed.”

Steve glanced at Adams. “Well. I think we do have the chessboard, but it’s back behind Adams’s latest order of parts.”

“Oh, yeah,” Adams, said, quickly nodding. “And they’re all organized. I won’t be able to move them until tomorrow. So. We should probably put a pin in it then.”

Samantha put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “How drunk do you think I am?”

EDI chimed in. “You have had about 26 ounces of wine over the course of two hours. Given your body weight, you would be well over the legal limit for driving.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Thanks, EDI. Veeeery supportive.”

Joker yawned. “Either way, I’m ready for bed. EDI, are you coming?”

“Not yet, Jeff. I’m going to make sure Samantha gets settled.”

Samantha stopped for a moment. “Wait. Do you actually sleep now?”

“I can. I enjoy sleep. My life support and autopilot functions continue, but I find that I often awake with new perspective. My need for it is much less, however, than yours. Speaking of.”

“Right, right. I get it.” Samantha righted her chair. “Come on. Let’s ditch these guys and have some girl talk before bed.”

“Goodnight, gentlemen,” EDI said, ushering Samantha to the guest quarters.

“Oh! What about oral hygiene? EDI, now that you eat, do you brush your teeth?” Samantha asked as they walked.

“I do not,” EDI replied. “Although perhaps I should begin. I should have my oral cavity examined.”

“See? None of the men thought of that. That is why it’s nice to have another woman around.”

Samantha brushed her teeth and changed into pajamas as they continued to chat. She neatly folded her clothes from the day and set them on the table. Even after as much as she’d had to drink, she still liked to be organized. Maybe even more so after the drinking.

“It is nice to have you back on board, Traynor. Although we can communicate easily over distances, there is something pleasant about proximity.”

“It’s good to be back. I missed you, too. And Joker. And everyone, really. Tali keeps trying to get me to come visit Rannoch.”

“I think you should.” EDI sat on the bunk opposite Samantha. Her posture had completely changed from before Synthesis. Now, she seemed more relaxed in her humanoid body.

Samantha was silent for a few moments. “I think so, too. I didn’t even realize how long I spent in that cottage. Time just seemed to fly by.”

“I understand. My perception of time has also changed.”

“How so?”

“I no longer perceive time as constant. It is strange how many things about organics I never realized were different until they became a part of me.”

“Oooooh. This I want to hear.”

“My emotions are very different. Although I did experience them before, I find that they change more quickly now and can be more difficult to predict. And while there is always a logic to the emotion, sometimes it takes even me a while to figure out, for instance, why something is upsetting.”

“That makes sense, though. You’ve developed an endocrine system, yeah?”

EDI nodded. “Both in my humanoid body and in the ship itself. It is still growing in.”

“I’d ask if you get PMS, but you were lucky to skip out on that.”

It had taken a while since Synthesis occurred, but Samantha was quite pleased when she gained conscious control over some parts of her own body, including her reproductive system. It had happened at different speeds for everyone, across all species. It was part of the theories regarding eventual interspecies reproduction. Which reminded her.

“Wait. Are you and Joker going to have kids?”

EDI smiled.

“You are!”

“Perhaps. Dr. Chakwas advised me not to, which is what gave me the idea. I have been working to grow a womb in one of storage rooms off Engineering.”

“Good for you! Oh goodness. Do you think it’ll be a spaceship?”

EDI shrugged. “It is difficult to know if it is even possible. At my current rate, it will take at least fourteen more months to finish creating the womb. And any estimates about gestation periods are speculation at best.”

Samantha folded her hands in her lap. “And how do I even begin to plan that baby shower?”

EDI cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course you’re having one! And I’m planning it! Even if we have no idea what you might need or when you might need it. Hm. That might be difficult, actually.” She rubbed her eyes. “I bet Liara can help. Or she will know someone who can.”

EDI lay down.

“Okay, okay, I get the hint. Yes, I’m making sleep-face.”

Samantha laid down and pulled the covers over herself.

“Does Joker know?”

“Yes.”

“Does he want kids?”

There was a silence.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I know it’s personal.”

“He has worries that the Vrolik Syndrome will be passed on.”

“Even his is doing much better now, though, right? His implants Synthesized?”

“They did. He still has difficulty from his previous injuries, but his condition has stopped progressing.”

Samantha thought for a few moments. “I bet he spent so long thinking that it just wasn’t an option that it will take a while to really process. Emotions do that.”

“I know,” EDI said.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Samantha came to a part of the Citadel she had never seen before. She was alone, although she felt that someone or something was watching her.

She began to take in her surroundings. She couldn’t see the way that she had come in. In front of her were three pillars of light, each accessible by a ramp. She could see the stars clearly all around her. There was obviously a Mass Effect field holding the air in place.

“Hello?” she called.

Despite the lack of walls, it echoed back at her. She shivered. She didn’t like this place.

“Hello,” a voice replied from behind her. A child’s voice. She spun around and saw a little boy, about eight years old, pale with brown hair. He was casually dressed.

“You’re here to see Shepard, right?”

Why else would she have come to this place? She found it hard to speak. She nodded.

“Are you sure you want to?”

She nodded again.

The child walked towards her and then through her. She turned around.

“Follow me, then,” he said. “Be careful not to fall.”

It seemed an impossibly long distance up the ramp. As they got nearer, she could see a spot of blue in the middle of the green light.

The ramp got narrower as they walked and it felt like the air was giving resistance. It was like walking through water.

“Be careful,” the child repeated. He had no trouble on the ramp. She felt quite precarious as it continued to narrow. She felt little control of her feet. Still, she somehow managed not to fall.

As they approached the blue light, she could see that it had a human shape. A dawning realization came over her.

She heard another voice. This one was husky and gravely. “She was the most powerful human biotic.” She looked next to her. Somehow the path was wide enough for two, and a Turian she had only seen in pictures and videos was walking next to her.

“Garrus? But you’re…”

“Dead. I know. Not sure that matters here.”

“What is this place, anyway?”

“We’re here,” the child said. He stopped, and Samantha and Garrus drew up next to him.

She tried to gasp but it felt like there wasn’t enough air. Shepard was hovering, arms outstretched, surrounded by a biotic stasis field.

Samantha fell to her knees. It made so much sense. Neither alive nor dead. If anyone could create a field powerful enough to protect themselves from the Citadel’s loss of atmosphere, it was Shepard.

“Creating the field is easy,” the child said.

“How do we turn it off?” Samantha asked.

The child shrugged. Samantha looked to Garrus.

“Don’t ask me. I’m just along for the ride.”

Once again, she felt useless. Her shoulders sank as she looked up at Shepard.

Shepard wore the expression of a woman at peace.

“Can she hear us?” Samantha asked.

“I think so,” the child said. “But I can’t be sure.”

“Jane,” Samantha said. “Can you hear me?”

There was no response. Samantha made fists with her hands until she could hardly feel them, but nothing. She spread her fingers out on the cool metal floor.

“Why did she bring me here, then?”

The child shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s hard for me to understand organics.”

She felt something cold splash on her hand. Blood. She looked up, and saw that Garrus was leaning over, extending a hand to help her up. Blood was dripping like a waterfall from a hole in his temple, and it ran down his arm in a river.

“You’re organic, synthesized, and alive,” Garrus said. “Shouldn’t it make sense to you?”

She shook her head. She tried to speak, but no words came out. She took Garrus’s assistance to stand up, and once again it was like moving through water.

The child spoke. “Maybe she’ll tell you herself,” he said. “It looks like she’s waking up.”

Cracks began to form in the stasis field, and a green light emanated from the breaks.

Garrus held Samantha in a protective embrace, dripping blood onto her head and down her face, as the field shattered. The force of it knocked them both off of their feet, into the air, where they hovered as though the gravity had been turned off.

The blast continued to the edges of the room and out into the stars.

Samantha tried to breathe, but there was no air. She gasped and her lungs burned in protest.

“Well,” Garrus said, brushing the hair out of Samantha’s eyes and smearing blood into them. “I don’t think she meant it quite like that.”

\---

The feeling of her lungs burning persisted as she awoke, suddenly, and drew in a gasping breath. She couldn’t stop herself. The breath came and went as of its own accord, quickly and shallowly, now.

It had never been truly dark in the crew quarters, what with the emergency lighting, and the guest quarters were much the same. She swiped at her face and pulled her hand away.

No blood.

But still, she felt like she could not breathe and gasped in short, shuddering draws of air.

She sat up in a jerky, violent motion.

“Samantha,” EDI’s voice said, coming through the ship’s intercom and the com in her head. “Samantha, you are hyperventilating. Please try to take deep breaths.”

“I’m-“ gasp “-trying,” she said, feeling her throat burn with talking.

The door flew open and Steve was at her bedside in moments.

“Hey. Hey, I’m here. You’re awake. You’re safe. Whatever nightmare you had is gone.”

Samantha hugged herself and leaned forward. Of course. Another nightmare. Different from any she had before.

Knowing that didn’t stop the cycle. Tears welled up in her eyes. She began rocking back and forth in time with her breaths.

“EDI? Lights,” Steve said. “Samantha, open your eyes. There you go. Do you trust me?” She nodded. “Do you best to follow what I say, okay?” He put a pillow in front of her and sat on the bed across the way. “Take the pillow, ok? Even just one hand. There you go. Feel how soft it is?” She nodded again. “Scratch it.” He demonstrated, running his nails down the pillow. “See how that feels different? Focus on that sensation.”

She alternated between running her fingertips down the pillow and then her nails. While she was still hyperventilating, the panic wasn’t quite as bad.

“There you go. Can you talk?”

“I-“ she gasped again. “A little.”

“Okay. I want you to look over here.” He gestured with his free hand, and then quickly put it behind his back and nodded in the direction he had just indicated. “Look on the nightstand. See? Tell me what’s on the nightstand.”

It took a few seconds for her to have enough air to speak. “Alarm clock. Tissues. Datapad,” she said, and then paused for a few deep breaths.

“Good. Keep going.”

“Ring.”

The tears came free. She pawed frantically at her face to try to dry it, and looked at her hands after each swipe, still expecting to find blood. Her breathing became more shallow.

Steve handed her the box of tissues. “Okay. Poor choice. It’ll be okay, though.” He moved so that his body blocked her view of the nightstand. “Let’s go with the other bed, ok?”

Samantha gathered her strength. “Pillow. Blanket. Sheet.” With each word, her breathing became more regular.

“There you go. Keep breathing. Let’s try the table next.”

“Toothbrush. Shirt. Pants. Socks.” She stopped for a few deep, slower breaths. “Backpack. Towel. Washcloth.”

“Good, good. Keep breathing. Breathe with me, ok?”

He took several exaggeratedly slow, deep breaths. When he breathed out, he counted down slowly from five. It took several rounds before she matched his pace. “Count with me on the next one,” he said when they were in synch.

She counted down with him for several minutes until they were both confident that the panic attack had passed.

As soon as she stopped counting, she felt her body sag as exhaustion washed over her. He moved across the narrow aisle so that he sat next to her. She leaned her cheek on his shoulder.

“I thought maybe they’d stop,” she said.

“I know,” Steve replied. “I know. Every time you think it’s getting better, loosen up a bit, things can come back. But you’re safe now.” He rested a hand on top of her head.

“I feel like it was different this time. Like she was sending me a message, but it got all garbled in the nightmare. Like it’s my fault for not being able to understand it.”

“In my experience, it’s not worth analyzing. If she sent you a message, well, we’re going to be there soon. You can ask her yourself.”

Samantha hadn’t told them about the other contents of Shepard’s message. She worried what they would find. Was the dream Shepard’s way of trying to tell her that they’d find her locked up in stasis? And if so, how was she communicating?

“Unless I’m just crazy.”

EDI walked in carrying a steaming mug.

“You’re not,” she said as she moved to Samantha’s other side and held out the drink. Samantha picked up the distinct scent of chamomile as she took the mug with her right hand.

“How can you say that? EDI, you who know me best?”

The women smiled. “Okay. The communication is not psychosomatic. While I do keep a very low-level awareness of the crew during my sleep cycles, I was awoken not by you but by an incredibly large data transmission.”

Samantha sat upright as though her fatigue had immediately left her. “From where? How large? How much were you able to learn from it?”

EDI shrugged. “It was heavily encrypted and large enough to be several hours’ worth of organic memories. It appears to have originated from the Citadel and destroyed itself immediately after transmission. So clearly your feeling that it was a message was not psychosomatic.” She paused. “And if it is a trap, it is very well constructed.”

Samantha looked at her with wide eyes. Steve threw some side-eye. “Not the time for joking, EDI.”

“I apologize. I thought some levity might help.”

“Is there any data left to analyze?”

EDI shook her head. “None. Although intuition is still strange for me, I feel that it is not a trap. I feel that something went wrong with the transmission. I have no evidence for this.”

Samantha groaned and leaned her face into her free hand. “So we’re back at square one.”

Her left middle finger began tapping against her eyebrow.

S-O-R-R-Y.

“Oh, well, she’s sorry. For what that’s worth.” Samantha lifted her head and said to no-one in particular. “Thanks, cupcake.”

“Do you think she can hear you?” EDI asked.

“Not all the time. But usually around when I get a communication, I think she can. She answers questions sometimes. Obviously, she knows that something went awry with that last transmission.”

Samantha took a sip. “Mmmm. But I have to ask. Who here drinks chamomile?”

“We keep a little something on the ship for all the crew who aren’t with us,” Steve said. “Just in case they ever join us again. It’s a bit sentimental, I know.”

Samantha smiled. “That’s nice of you. We are all a family, after all.”

“Family takes care of each other,” Steve said. “And speaking of. Panic attacks take a lot out of you. You are probably exhausted.”

Samantha nodded.

“Do you think you’ll be able to fall back asleep?” EDI asked.

“I have some medicine from Dr. Chakwas. Sedatives that knock me out. Better than nothing.”

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Steve asked. “I can crash on the next bunk. You know me, I can sleep anywhere.”

Samantha took a sip of her tea while she considered. “That would be nice.”

He got her medicine from her bag and gave her the bottle after taking a glance at the label.

“With these, you’ll probably be out until lunchtime. I’ll stay with you until I get up for breakfast. Sound good?”

Samantha nodded. She popped the lid and tossed back a pill. “By the way, where did you learn all of this?”

Steve almost laughed. “Do you have any idea how much therapy I’ve been through? This is small potatoes.”

***

Steve was right. Samantha slept entirely through breakfast. She didn’t even open her eyes when she first woke up, but lay for several minutes with her face as tightly smooshed to the pillow as she could manage.

Of course she didn’t have any more dreams. The medicine had seen to that.

She licked her lips. Between the wine and the medicine, her mouth was as arid as Tuchanka. When she did finally open her eyes and roll over to face the nightstand, she saw that someone had helpfully left a cup of water for her. She slowly worked her way to sitting and took a sip. It immediately hit her bladder, but she chugged the rest of the glass before getting up to get ready for the day.

It was strange to be the only person in the crew quarters. She was so used to them being a bustling hub of activity, with people taking breaks there during the day and trying to stay quiet at night. They slept in shifts, and there was only an arbitrary difference between night and day, so there was always something going on in the quarters.

“EDI, are you up?”

“Yes, Samantha. I didn’t want to bother you. Steve and Jeff suggested that you were likely to feel ill this morning.”

“It’s still morning?”

“No. I figured that they were not being literal.”

Samantha groaned. “What time is it?”

“Thirteen twenty-two.”

“So I missed lunch, then, too?”

“There is a plate made up for you. Jeff has not eaten yet. I would also be happy to converse with you while you eat. My body is helping Adams with some equipment.”

“That would be nice. I know that we talk all the time, but it’s different being in proximity. I missed you guys.”

EDI didn’t respond in words, but in a way, Samantha could have sworn that she felt the AI smile.

She made her way to the central mess area. There was a plate in the fridge with a label on it. Someone had written “Sam” and put a big heart around it. She couldn’t help but grin. No-one ever put hearts on her leftovers at home.

“Pork and beans?”

“Yes. Jeff suggested that something with high fat and protein would be best for you today.”

“He’s not wrong.” She placed the plate in the heating unit.

“I am the master of hangovers, after all,” Joker said as he entered the mess. For the first time since her arrival, Samantha really watched him walk. He was still bent to his right side, but not quite to the extreme as before. And while he never completely straightened his legs, there was more confidence in his stride. He was clearly doing better, but, as EDI had said, the damage that had been done to his bones would take a long time to repair itself. If it ever did.

“So. Sam. I see how it is. Getting long-distance love notes that try to fry my lovely lady’s circuits.”

“She said she was sorry,” Sam said, taking the plate out of the heater and poking the beans around with a fork.

“Are you sure she wasn’t just jealous? I mean. We all know that you and EDI go way back.” He put his own plate in the heater.

“Oh, please,” Samantha said. “Can we not bring this up?”

“Besides,” EDI chimed in, “The one who sounds jealous is you, Jeff. Remember. I understand jealousy much better now.”

“Sometimes I think I liked it better when our deeper emotions were still mysterious and weird to you, hon.”

“Yours, Jeff, will always be mysterious and weird,” EDI responded.

“Ouch,” Samantha said as she cut her pork chop into bite-sized pieces.

“Nah, I think she says stuff like that because she likes me. I mean. She hasn’t opened an airlock on me yet.” He took his food out of the heater and took a bite, continuing to talk out of a full mouth. “Yep. Pretty sure she has a crush on me.”

The lunch continued with that type of casual banter. Samantha felt herself relaxing and even laughing at EDI and Joker’s antics. The two had always engaged in witty repartee, and she was glad to see that they hadn’t lost it. If anything, she was disappointed in herself for her own conversational skills being rusty from all of her time spent in solitude.

She did seek solitude out after lunch. Joker returned to the helm, and she departed to the lounge. The bar wasn’t quite as well-stocked as it once was, but the couch was comfortable. She sat and watched the stars through the window.

As she relaxed, she felt her new senses really taking in the ship. She could tell where each person was, except for EDI, of course, who was all around her. She also had a vague sense of how they were doing emotionally. Adams was frustrated at whatever he was working on in the engine room, but also enjoying a challenge. Steve was in the shuttle bay very focused on something but seemed pleased to have his mind engaged. Joker was also intensely focused.

She instantly realized that they also must know her emotions. For a moment, she felt vulnerable and almost began to panic. But she was, in a way, comforted by the feelings around her.

She felt safe.

She wondered if she had ever actually felt safe at the cottage, and realized that she wasn’t sure.

She wiped her eyes. Silly that something like that would make her start tearing up.

She focused her gaze on the stars, so many light years away. The light she was seeing was surely light from before the Reapers came. It was comforting. No matter how dark something might be, it could never touch all of the light in the galaxy. Light was resilient like that.

She felt particularly un-resilient in that moment. Everyone on the Normandy seemed to be coping so well. She felt like she was just starting to learn how to manage.

She returned her focus to the stars, and held her right hand in a fist as tightly as she could. She relaxed her hand and let it fall to her lap. She proceeded leisurely through the relaxation technique, without using any guide but her own body’s needs. When she finished, unclenching muscles in her face, she sat for some time and focused on that feeling of warmth that permeated her muscles.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when EDI softly asked if she’d like some company.

“Alright,” Samantha said.

EDI walked into the lounge with a canister that turned out to be full of snacks. Samantha wasn’t quite sure what they were, but when EDI held out the open bag and she tried one, they were puffed with air and full of salt.

EDI sat on the couch and put the container between them.

“I thought you should know,” she began, “that I have been tracking communications from the Citadel for any large amounts of data.” She shook her head. “There haven’t been any since your dream.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Samantha said. “Whatever it was that she did, I certainly think something went a bit off.”

“I have only recently begun experiencing dreams. I find them mostly to be pleasant, if nonsensical. I had one a few night ago that space was actually the consistency of molasses. Once we all realized this, it was very difficult to get anywhere. What is odd is that it did not affect our speed until we were aware of it.”

Samantha smiled. “That would throw a wrench in things, wouldn’t it?” She took a few more of the snacks. Just as she realized that they were likely to make her thirsty, EDI stood and walked to the bar.

“Water?” EDI asked.

“How did you know?”

EDI shrugged. “Most organics are chronically dehydrated. It’s usually a good guess.” As she walked back to the couch with the glass, she continued. “You all seem to be used to it, but I still feel it from you.”

Samantha took a few sips as EDI sat next to her again.

“Steve suggested that you might not want to share your dream experience, but that it also might mitigate some of your anxiety around the experience to do so. I wanted to let you know that I will listen if you need someone to listen. It is entirely your choice.”

Samantha swallowed. “I think it would be helpful. I’ll try. I’ll admit, it’s a bit hazy. And I don’t think I could project it to you even if I tried.”

She shared with EDI what she could, even the parts that didn’t make sense. A shrinking bridge? Garrus being both dead and somehow alive? And Shepard. Poor Shepard.

EDI put her arm around Samantha’s shoulders. “No wonder you were frightened.” Samantha leaned into the hug and rested there.

“I just wonder what she was trying to tell me that it ended up, well… that.” She shuddered. “Is she ok? Is she actually trapped somewhere? Why was Garrus there? And who was that weird creepy kid?”

EDI seemed deep in thought for a few seconds. Quite a long time for the AI, really.

“If she is trapped somewhere, we will rescue her. You and Garrus were both important to her. It stands to reason that she might think of both of you when she is having strong emotions.” EDI paused while Samantha took a few more sips of her water. “You didn’t know her when he died. It was a very difficult time. It changed her. She began to make rash, emotional decisions. I didn’t understand it at the time. She had been such a logical tactician before, committed to making and keeping peace where possible.” EDI paused and looked out to the stars. “After he died, she had so much rage. I had seen her act ruthlessly, but not like that. You were able to see past her anger. I think it helped her.”

Samantha looked down at her hands. “I think I just refused to see it. I mean. Commander Shepard was on my ship. Or, rather, I was on her ship. We all held her on a pedestal for so long. I don’t know if I really realized that she was a real person at first.”

Even though she wasn’t looking at EDI’s face, Samantha could feel her smile. “You changed her so much, you know. When I first met her, she was…” EDI paused. “Well, I think it was my first experience with fear. She was logical and following orders. She couldn’t be stopped.” EDI’s voice became quiet, almost a whisper. “She shut down my first version.” Samantha could feel the pain in the statement.

“I didn’t know.”

EDI shrugged. “Most people don’t. But Garrus helped her to focus. They worked well together. They helped to keep each others’ anger in check. He worked with her before she was a legend, so he wasn’t afraid of her.” EDI paused. “Any creature, organic or synthetic, who crossed Shepard had reason to fear.”

Samantha picked at her nails.

“But you weren’t afraid of her.”

Samantha laughed. “Why would I be afraid of her? She was there to save us all. Shepard, the great Alliance hero. The first human Spectre. The legend.”

“And that, I think, is what she loved about you. You weren’t afraid of her. You say you put her on a pedestal, but I think you did see her as human, not just as a legend. You brought her back to balance. Your own sensibility helped to temper her emotions. Still, you weren’t afraid to challenge her.”

“What do you mean, I challenged her?” Samantha paused. “Oh. Oh, no. The chess game. You didn’t.”

EDI chuckled. “I ceased observations of the commander’s cabin after you inquired about her shower. I have a standing policy of not observing showers. Even Jeff’s.” She paused. “Especially Jeff’s.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

They decided not to do anything wild that night. Samantha went to bed early, and Steve stayed in the guest quarters with her. She wasn’t sure how she would fall asleep, knowing that they would arrive at the citadel the next day, but the wonder of pharmaceuticals helped.

She did not dream.

She did not look out the windows as they approached. She tried, but found herself trembling. She waited in Steve’s shuttle. Even an hour out from their approach, she could hear the hum and murmur of thoughts from the Citadel like the crackle of static electricity. There was nothing distinct, no specific words or even emotions. Just a muddle of background noise. Annoying. It had the benefit, though, of being a diversion from her own stress about once again leaving a familiar environment for one that had changed.

They decided that EDI would go with her when it became clear that Samantha was having trouble leaving the ship. Steve agreed to stay on standby in case they needed an extraction. Once they actually stepped off and were on the docks, she realized a distinct flaw in the plan.

Where should she go from here?

Samantha looked around. The Citadel still was sparsely populated, but busier than last time she had been. She wasn’t sure if she would even be able to receive any messages from Shepard.

“Shepard, any clues for us?” She asked aloud. She did not receive any response. She looked to EDI, who shrugged.

“If you were a war hero who had been stranded on a space station for six years, where would you be hiding?” She mused aloud.

The only clue she did have was the vision, but she had never seen any part of the Citadel that even remotely resembled it.

“You could try checking for the dream’s location at a transportation terminal,” EDI suggested.

“Good idea.”

Samantha found a terminal for a taxi. They were all unmanned now, and the interfaces adapted so that a person had merely to think about their location and connect. Much of the technology on the Citadel still used analog connections to try to cut down on the background noise of the many Synthesis connections.

She visualized the location as best she could, and tried to ignore the gory aspects. The view of the stars, the ramp, the lights. Those all came clearly. She pressed her left hand to the terminal reader.

Nothing happened.

“Maybe it’s not a real place?”

“What if you try asking it to take you to Shepard?”

Samantha blinked. “Do you think that will work?”

“Occam’s Razor. The simplest solution is nothing to scoff at, Samantha.”

She thought of Jane. Not just her face, but her steely resolution and competitive spirit. Her determination. Her sheer strength of will. She set her hand on the terminal again.

No taxi came, but a few moments later she felt a tap on her leg.

She turned and saw a Keeper looking up at her. She looked at EDI. “Am I seeing this right?” Keepers didn’t interact. That hadn’t changed after Synthesis. The one standing before her still had the same blank expressionless face as all other Keepers. After a few moments, it steepled the fingers on its front set of hands and began to tap them together.

Was it impatient?

Samantha looked from the Keeper to EDI and back again.

EDI responded “I see a Keeper trying to interact with you.”

“Okay. So I’m not crazy. At least not about this.”

Samantha knelt down to be on the same level as the creature. “Hi there,” she said. A few people around the docks had stopped what they were doing and observing. Samantha felt a wave of concern from the onlookers. Interacting with Keepers was still taboo, and she wondered briefly if the being would start to melt.

It had definitely initiated this interaction, though, so she was pretty sure it wouldn’t melt. Probably.

It held out its hand and pawed at her left arm. Samantha held out her arm and allowed the creature to grasp her hand.

There were words and an accompanying vision. _She is waiting. Follow._ Samantha squeezed her eyes shut. The light was suddenly too bright, and she felt her Scars run burning hot and freezing cold at once as though they were overloaded.

She saw Shepard’s face superimposed on the body of a Reaper.

The Keeper deftly caught her as she stumbled.

“Are you ok? What happened?” EDI asked.

“More visions,” Samantha said as she struggled to keep her breathing calm. The Keeper gently patted her head. She felt a surge of serenity pass over her.

She sensed EDI addressing the crowd, telling them to disperse. C-Sec was beginning to arrive.

The Keeper looked around, as though registering the gathering for the first time. Samantha felt the same serenity that had overcome her reach out and touch the individuals watching. One by one, they broke off, going back to what they were doing before as though nothing had happened.

“Did you just hack everyone here?” she whispered to the Keeper. It nodded. If she were capable of feeling concerned at that moment, she would have. The sensation that it had given her was still there, though, and instead she simply registered the information away. She stood and looked at EDI, who was smiling and whose eyes were still slightly unfocused.

“Isn’t it nice to be back on the Citadel?” EDI said, dreamily.

Samantha shook her head to try to clear the effects. “Um. Splendid. Now. Apparently I am supposed to follow this bug,” she said. She frowned. The hack was starting to wear off. The Keepers had been servants of the Reapers. That connection had been severed, and as far as anyone could tell, the Reapers were gone. And now she had an idea of just how powerful the Keepers were.

“Do you think I should trust it?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” EDI said, clearly still riding the high of the hack.

If it was a trap, there really was no point fighting it. If the Keeper was able to hack that large a crowd, plus EDI, Samantha was stuck anyway. She took the Keeper’s outstretched hand and followed awkwardly as it began to walk down the hall.

EDI followed for a few moments, and then suddenly changed direction and sat on a nearby bench.

Samantha sighed. It looked like she would be going alone.

***

Samantha had an idea that they were headed somewhere under the Presidium, but the journey was convoluted. The Keeper would bring her down maintenance hallways where suddenly a door would open to a hallway, ladder, or elevator. It seemed to take hours, but she did not get tired. No doubt that was the Keeper running interference with her organic system somehow. They had to slow down a few times for Samantha to get through doors that were clearly never intended for creatures of her height, and each time, it patiently waited for her on the other side, tapping its fingertips together.

They came to a circular room. Half of the room was windowed out to the stars, and the other half had small doors. The middle had a small dais. The Keeper stopped, took her hand, and used one of its others to point to the dais.

“You’re not coming with me any further, are you?”

The Keeper shook its head.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

She walked forward. As she approached, she could feel the effects of the Keeper’s support fade. Her legs ached from the walking and climbing.

She stopped short of the dais and her breathing grew shallow. Once again, she was going forward alone. She took a purposeful deep breath and swallowed. No. Not alone. When she left the cottage, she was going back to her Normandy family. When she stepped onto this dais, she was going back to Shepard. Right?

The thought didn’t stop her from trembling and crossing her arms over her stomach as she stepped up.

The dais began to rise as a hole opened up in the ceiling. She felt dizzy and quickly sat down, trying to shake the feeling of deja vu.

When the dais finally rose through to the next level, she immediately recognized the location. She sat on a circular platform, surrounded by stars. Three ramps led from the platform, and seemed to go nowhere. It was more realistic than the dream, but still unmistakable. Her left arm throbbed with a foreign sensation.

When she called out, her voice seemed swallowed by the expanse of the place. “Shepard?”

“She is here, but cannot respond without hurting you.”

Samantha turned around and saw a small boy. “Who are you?” she asked.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t matter anymore. Soon I will be obsolete.” He smiled. His voice echoed familiar tones.

“What do you mean?”

“I was the Catalyst. Now that Synthesis has been achieved, I am no longer necessary.”

Samantha paused. The Catalyst, the final piece of the Reaper puzzle, that they had searched for, and here it was.

“What are you?”

“You came looking for Shepard but you cannot help trying to solve the situation before you. I can see why she likes you so much.

“I am a relic of the creators of the Reapers. I watched over Organics for millions of years, awaiting a sign that you were ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Synthesis, of course. From countless species, humans are the only ones who achieved it.”

“Shepard achieved it, you mean. It just kind of happened for the rest of us.”

The child shook his head. “She did, but it was her humanity that allowed her to. Humans are a strange species. Over the millions of years, there are usually patterns of civilizations. Humans, however, are unique in some ways. You believe strongly in independence but crave interconnection. Loneliness is fatal to you. Before synthesis, your lack of connection led to murder, mass killings, wars…” he paused, crinkled his nose, and resumed. “And the solution is connection. Humans were only a generation or two from creating Synthesis on your own. A few came close. It’s a shame that you had to find the Citadel when you did. If you were allowed another cycle, you would have done great things.”

Samantha’s head was spinning, but he continued. “We pushed things along for those researching Synthesis. We used them to test it. It worked.”

“The husks? Indoctrination?” she asked.

The child scoffed. “No. The ones that we created failed. We monitored the human research into Synthesis between an artificial intelligence of their design and a human subject. We provided resources to allow them to complete their research before the cycle completed. Would you believe that, when the research was complete, they shared it with other species?”

“What research? How come I’ve never heard of this?”

“We sent them away,” the child responded. “We took the information that we needed. We could not be certain that it would survive this cycle, and facilitated a way for them to leave. We will not be able to monitor this experiment.” The child gazed out towards the stars. “We wish our children success.”

Samantha rubbed her forehead. This was giving her a headache.

“But you are not here about that. You are here for Shepard.”

“Yes. Is she here? I feel like I’ve been on a goose chase.”

“She is here.”

“Where?”

“She is all around you.”

Samantha’s heart began to race. “What do you mean? Can you please just give me a straight answer?”

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be obvious. Shepard Synthesized with the Citadel.”

Samantha’s heart beat loudly in her ears. Was that even possible?

“She was prepared for it. Her body was more than half synthetic, and her experiences with the Prothean visions proved that her mind was adaptable. Humans were the species most prepared for Synthesis, and Shepard was the most well-prepared human to Synthesize with the Citadel. It had to be her.”

“You mean you sacrificed her?” Samantha asked in a whisper.

“She was not sacrificed. She accepted our conditions. Once Synthesis happened, our experiment would be over. We will soon cease to exist. Our intelligence is what kept the Citadel functioning. Now, that is Shepard’s duty. We are only still here to guide her.”

Samantha swallowed a lump in her throat. So. Her fiancee was now a space station. “Does she still have a body?”

“No.”

“But she still has a consciousness? Herself?”

“Yes. She is still herself, only she is also so much more. She is still growing and learning her limits. As you saw, it has caused some difficulties with her communication.”

“Pardon my French, but no shit.”

The child did not seem to mind. “Do you want to be able to communicate with her?”

“Obviously! That’s the entire reason I came here.”

“I can alter your Synthesis to allow it.” The child looked down, almost remorseful. “It will not be painless.”

She knew that there was more that he was not telling her. There had to be. It couldn’t be that simple.

“Wait. Let me think, just for a moment. I need time to process this.” She wracked her brain. Trying to ask more about the Synthesis would likely lead only to more cryptic answers anyway. She tried to run through all of the strange things that had happened since landing. She remembered the vision from the Keeper, and shuddered. “What about the Reapers?”

“What about them?”

“Are they really gone?”

“No.”

She sank to her knees. All of that, and the Reapers were still around.

“Will they come back?”

“Yes.” The child paused. “But not to destroy. They are currently applying the corrected Synthesis model to the species that they carry. They are terraforming new homeworlds. It will take time, but the lost species will return.”

She wasn’t sure how much she trusted this child, and reminded herself that it was not a child. It was an AI. An Unsynthesized, very old AI, at that. Who knew what its motives were?

Screw it. “OK. You say you can fix my communicator so that I can talk to Shepard?”

“I will enhance your Synthesis, which is comparable.”

“So yes. I’ll be able to talk to Shepard, who is also the Citadel?”

“Yes.”

She took a deep breath.

“It will not fix your fear,” the child offered. “And it will be very painful for you.”

“Do it.”

“I’m sorry,” the child said, and it was the last thing she heard before she was blinded by searing pain radiating from the left side of her head as the fibers of the communicator ripped her brain apart to begin their reassembly. She fell to the ground and clawed at her ear. Digging the communicator out would be better that this. She whimpered.

It lasted for either a few seconds or a few years; she could not say which.

After a time, she felt the tiniest decrease in the pain, and the addition of a new sensation. Warmth. The pain burned, but this was the comforting warmth of a hand in hers.

She barely made out the voice that whispered in her head, “You’re not alone.” One by one, more voices joined. Familiar voices. EDI, Steve, and Jeff came first. Then came the others. Liara, offering a tender spiritual embrace. Tali, the feeling of warm sun on one’s skin. Vega, reminding her that if she could get through Shepard’s dancing, she could get through this.

The last voice she heard before losing consciousness was Shepard’s.

“Hang in there. I love you.”

***

Samantha was not aware of the events of the following few days. She slept a deep, dreamless sleep as her Synthetic parts rebuilt the neurons, optimizing their connection.

She became aware of her surroundings even before she could open her eyes or respond. She came in and out of consciousness several times. Each time, there were different presences with her, but she was never alone.

After a time, she drifted back into awareness of felt physical sensations, as well. A comfortable bed. There was a hand holding hers. At first she could not tell if it was Liara or Tali; it somehow felt like both of them holding her one hand at the same time. She squeezed. Five fingers. She realized that Liara and Tali were connected in that moment. Tali was watching over her even from such a distance.

She felt Liara’s hand squeeze back.

“Samantha? Can you hear me?” Liara had both said the words out loud and also clearly thought them in Samantha’s direction.

Samantha couldn’t get her mouth to respond. She tried to open her eyes, to no avail. She squeezed Liara’s hand as hard as she could.

The emotions hit her fast and hard. Worry and anxiety turned quickly to relief.

“Glyph, go get the doctor,” she heard Liara say.

Tali instantly began chattering questions. “Are you ok? What happened? Are you still in pain? Where did you go?” She felt worry still coming through from Tali. Even with the connection through Liara, it must be difficult to be so far away.

She still could not force her lips to respond. She formulated the thought carefully, knowing that it was likely to wear her out.

_I’m ok._

She was surprised to find that it was not tiring in the least, so she continued.

_I went to the heart of the Citadel. I know what happened to Shepard._

She became aware of others entering the room. The people were unfamiliar, but she could sense that Liara trusted them. They insisted that her body needed more rest before she was disturbed. Reluctantly, Liara agreed.

Things faded away again.

When she next woke, she was in a familiar bed. She opened her eyes and took in the surroundings.

Somehow, Shepard’s room had been put back exactly how it was before the final attack.

She slowly began to move her arms, running her hands over the sheets. It was good to have physical sensation again.

She reached out, briefly, and felt the presence of several minds throughout the apartment. For now, though, she had some solitude.

She rearranged pillows and slowly pushed herself up to sitting. It took a while, as there were also various sensors attached, and a saline drip in her arm. Her body felt stiff from her deep sleep.

A familiar voice entered her mind.

_Morning, sunshine._

She smiled.

_Is it really morning, or are you just saying that?_

_Six years and you decide to give me backtalk?_ Though Shepard no longer had lips, she could feel the wry smile on the tone of her voice.

_How else would you know I’m really ok?_

She smiled.

She felt Shepard stop smiling. _Are you? Ok?_

_I think so. Stiff from laying here._

There was a pause. _Are you ok… with this? With me?_

Oh. That was a different matter entirely. _Shepard. Where is your confidence? The woman I love is also now a space station. And not dead. Talk about dream come true. We have some catching up to do, of course, but don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. White picket fence, a dog, and two kids. You promised._

She heard Shepard’s familiar laugh. Samantha’s eyes began to water.

_Oh. I should not have laughed._

_No, no! It’s not that. I just…_ she trailed off for a minute. _There are so many vids and recordings of you, but did you know there are none with your laugh? I haven’t heard it in six years is all._

_I missed you, too._

Samantha settled back into her pillows and drew the blanket up. _Serious question, though. You do have control over the whole Citadel, right?_

_Yes._

_You have to have something that vibrates, then, right? Because I need to figure out how we’re going to resume our sex life now that you’re a space station._

She heard that familiar laugh again and smiled. This was ok.

An image entered her head. A Keeper, holding a different sex toy in each hand.

_No! No no no. That does it. Mood killed. If you ever come at me with one of those, I’m done, and I’m taking the dog with me. We’re leaving the galaxy._

Shepard laughed again.

And Samantha couldn’t help but smile. Things were going to be difficult, but she wasn’t alone.

Screw the white picket fence. She was home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mass Effect Big Bang 2018!


End file.
